A great game of yesterdays and tomorrows

Chief sports columnist and associate editor with The Age

ONE of the mystical peculiarities of Test cricket is each day is played on new terms, discrete in themselves and often vitally different from the preceding day and the days to come. In Test cricket, tomorrow is nearly always a new day. Call it the 100 not out overnight syndrome.

On Friday at the Adelaide Oval, Australia laboured sweatily for hours, but took only two South African wickets, both in their way accidents. On Saturday, it took 5-13 inside the first hour, gouging a hole in South Africa's batting, and 8-173 in all to restore its position of authority in this match, though it was much diminished again by stumps.

Peter Siddle, luckless on Friday, led the charge with two wickets, including Graeme Smith, South Africa's rock and cornerstone.

On Smith's new day, he again threw himself on the dubious mercy of the Decision Review System, but this time was betrayed; it disclosed a nick. It made Smith's referral doubly a waste. He left, offended. The protocols governing DRS become more inscrutable each passing day.

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Siddle would take no more wickets, but his figures contain a lie. Of the 130 runs he yielded in 30 overs, an anomalous 94 came from boundaries.

Firstly, it was edges, thick and thin; a pressing field and glassy outfield made them irretrievable. Later, it was hefty blows down the ground from admirable debutant Faf du Plessis, batting with the tail.

But it was Siddle's sustained aggression that revitalised Australia, and it had runs to spend then, or so it seemed. Merv Hughes used to play the same role for Australia.

Nathan Lyon's brace of wickets seemed only his due; one was Morkel, bowled behind his legs, a dismissal every spinner wants for his collection. He becomes crucial Sunday.

Du Plessis' day was new in that it was his first as a batsman in Test cricket, after a long and dutiful wait. He left an indelible first impression, as a classicist, but with a twist, literally: when he hit out down the ground, he would rotate his body and follow through in such a way as to leave him a pose much like the statue of a civic leader in some country town, reaching out towards a vision on the horizon.

Anyway, he and brave, wincing Jacques Kallis put on 93 for the eighth wicket, runs that seemed merely nuisance value at the time, but by stumps had doubled in redeemable worth.

That was largely the doing of burly Rory Kleinveldt, whose introduction to Test cricket this last fortnight has been a wretched business, up to his mid-afternoon duck, but who suddenly took three wickets as Australia's top order succumbed to his bounce and movement.

At dusk, this became veritably for Kleinveldt a brand new day.

For others, sadly, this was Groundhog Day. For the second time in the match, Rob Quiney dabbed off the back foot and for the second time was caught, not having made a run.

The way he threw and caught his bat, like a baton twirler, told its own tale of resignation. He is a better cricketer than this, but may never now get to show it.

Ricky Ponting arrived and left to warm ovations; sadly, they were only 10 overs apart. Arguably, the flourish that has made him a great batsman undid him now; on a pitch that was beginning to play at odd heights and angles, he went with his usual high backlift at Dale Steyn, but caught up with the ball only in time to play it into his stumps. Noticeably, Michael Clarke played out the day with a shortened backlift. Ponting's place again dangles by a thread.

James Pattinson bowled seven balls, then was seen no more, except in the waiting room of a nearby clinic. This was the day he has already had too many times before in his short career, so promising and so ill-starred. Team management spoke evasively of ''side pain'' and ''scans'' last night, code for yet another period of rehabilitation.

Apart from his personal anguish, this poses a twofold problem for Australia. Firstly, Pattinson becomes the missing link as it defends what South Africa must now think will be an attainable fourth innings target here. Then the attack must be re-cast for a deciding Test in Perth three days later.

Not least of those who must feel that they have been stranded in Punxsutawney was poor Imran Tahir, who again was smeared to all points, who at last claimed a wicket when Ed Cowan popped a catch to cover, only to be sprung by DRS for overstepping by a millimetre or two. His match returns stands at 0-212.

Test cricket is replete with these personal dramas, intrinsic to the unfolding of the match, yet incidental to it, too.

However unslept, Ponting, Quiney, Tahir et al must come with brave faces Sunday; a Test match hangs in the balance. On a pitch showing agreeable signs of treachery, the odds remain in Australia's favour, but with this caveat: it is one bowler skinny, and South Africa is one batsman plumper than most teams, and that designated hitter now is the estimable Kallis, who showed yesterday one leg is enough; like his heart and his bat, it is stout.

All that can be predicted for certain about Sunday is that it will not be Saturday.